Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) (33 page)

The next gruesome morning was spent painting walls and moving furniture. Elei was wiping sweat from his face when Kalaes came to tell him he was meeting with Hera and Sacmis. Fundraising for the orphanage. Hera had an idea they’d need to lobby the new government.

“I’d ask you to join me,” Kalaes said, “but afterward I’m meeting with Zoe and I’ll be staying over. So it crossed my mind you might like some time alone with Ale.” He winked.

Unable to deny it, Elei gave him a grateful smile that made Kalaes laugh out loud.

“Gods down below, you’re so smitten.” Kalaes shoved a small package in Elei’s hands. “If you make out, use this, okay? You’re too young to have kids of your own, especially with all the orphans you’ll be taking in... And better be safe than sorry with Rex. I don’t think you can transmit it like that, but until we know more...” He shrugged.

Elei turned the small, flat package in his hands. He had a vague idea of what it was. Kalaes was right. He should’ve thought of this himself, but somehow his imagination had never made it this far. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Follow the instructions on the package.” Kalaes patted him on the back. “She’s a cool girl, fe. Whatever problem gets between you, talk it over, okay? Don’t keep it all inside.”

Elei nodded, shoved the package in his back pocket and said goodbye to Kalaes. Finished up his work, cleaned up, made sure the few kids already staying there were okay. The oldest seemed to be about his age — a strong boy called Met. Met promised to make sure the door was locked, the windows closed, that he’d look after the other kids until the next day.

He walked to the bus stop in a daze.
Alone with Alendra.
The package seemed to weigh as much as an ocean in his pocket and the way home took a year or two.

He unlocked the door and entered the apartment, and she sat there, at the table, smiling. Everything else faded.

She stood and came to him, slipping her arms around his neck, pressing her warm lips to his throat. Breath catching in his throat, he put his arms around her waist and kissed her brow until she looked up and their lips met.

His muscles were unclenching, his bones melting, his whole body wrapping around her slender form. The apartment — quiet, the afternoon stretching ahead of them like a journey.

He kissed her slowly, carefully, tasting herbal tea and sweetness. She twined her fingers in his hair and tugged lightly, startling a gasp out of him. Her tongue swiped against his lips, teasing, and his whole body hummed with pleasure. He pressed her against the table, then jerked back when she twitched in his arms. Afraid he was crushing her, he stepped back, but she followed him until he fell against the kitchen counter.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be.” Breathless, he reached up, brushed a golden wisp of hair from her eyes; it felt soft like silk, and he trailed his fingers over the fine shell of an ear and down her slender jaw to her throat where her pulse beat in rapid bursts. She was so small, so strong, and so very beautiful.

His chest pressed against her whenever he inhaled, against the softness of her breasts. He wanted to tear off her thin t-shirt, her bra, to look at her and hold her skin to skin, to trace every curve and kiss it — and the fear returned when her hands stole under his shirt and caressed his lower back.

“Ale...”

“Shh.” She kept smiling, a softness in her eyes. “Don’t run away. I want to be here with you.”

He took a deep breath, told his heart to be calm. “I want to be with you, too.”

“Show me,” she murmured, drawing back, giving him space, and he didn’t have to ask what she meant. His back, the snakeskin, all that could turn the warm look of pleasure in her gaze into cold disgust.

But how could he refuse now, after promising not to run?

His ribs hurt like a bitch when he shrugged off his jacket and pulled up his t-shirt. She helped him, tugging it off and turning him around, and his heart beat so hard it might break out of his chest. He stood, head bowed, hair tickling his closed eyes, shivering in the ringing silence.

It was cold in the apartment, and his muscles cramped, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak. There was the squeak of Alendra’s boot on the linoleum floor, the sound of her uneven breathing — catching, then starting again, harsh — the feel of her small hand on his spine, moving higher, between his shoulder blades where he could hardly feel it, the snakeskin covering his skin all the way to his shoulders.

“It’s... there’s so much of it,” Alendra breathed, and his heart sank. He waited while she explored its expanse, the ghost feeling of her fingertips teasing his consciousness when she reached his arms or his lower back. “You were sick with it for a long time, weren’t you?”

He nodded.

Her fingers stilled. “And these shapes?”

“Cronion.” He cleared his clogged throat. “I had cronion before Rex. It stopped telmion, saved my life.”

“And these...” She pressed against something high on his back, then walked around and stood before him. Frowning, concentrating, she placed her hands on two spots on his chest: the bullet wounds. “You have many scars.”

Matter-of-fact. Neutral. Stating the truth. “Yeah.” He was there, exposed for her to see, every scar, every step in his story imprinted in his flesh.

“You survived it all.” Her hands trailed up his arms, rested on his shoulders. “You’re a fighter.”

She was pressing closer and all he could think was that she didn’t seem about to run.

“You’re okay with it, then?” he whispered.

“Elei...” She said against his lips, “You’re really cute.”

“Cute.” He pressed closer, his eyes closing. “Like Cat?”

“No. Like a man.”

He snorted and kissed her, because what else could he do when he had her in his arms, warm and smiling? Willing and unafraid.

 Her small hands on his hips, she nudged him toward the bedroom. “I want to see the rest.”

The what?
He stumbled backward, through the open door and into her bedroom where she slept alone. “The rest of the snakeskin?”

“The rest of you.” Still holding his hips, she swung him around so she was backing onto the bed, pulling him along. “And maybe you’d like to see the rest of me?”

His throat closed with fear and desire. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. Oh gods, yeah, he’d love that.

She sat on the bed and hooked her fingers in the pockets of his pants, tugging down. Her eyes glinted golden. “It’s okay. We’re alone.”

Right.
And now that they were alone, he feared he’d ruin it. Because he had no clue what to do. Oh gods, so ironic. To come this far and blow it. He laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” She tugged harder and he lost his balance, toppling over her.

He managed to put his hands on either side of her head, avoiding crushing her, and his laughter died when she looked up through her pale lashes. Made of rippling light and shadow, creamy planes and fantastical curves — she was unknown territory, mysterious as the sea.

She arched up and kissed him, breaking his thoughts, and he dipped his head lower, groaning when her lips grazed his cheek, his temple. It felt so good. When her fingers slipped under the waistband of his pants, pulling them down, he rolled by her side, unsure his arms would hold him any longer. Trailing his mouth over every inch of exposed skin he could find, tasting, his fingers slipping under her blouse, exploring. Knowing her. Skimming over her ribcage, feeling the beating of her heart, over the swell of her breasts.

So different. So addictive.
He lifted her blouse and she helped him pull it up.

“My turn to show you my scars,” she whispered, breathless, and he wanted to see. Everything.

She was beautiful. Flawless, smooth like moonstone, liquid, flowing and glowing. If she had scars, he couldn’t see them, blinded by her symmetry, her perfect mirroring of him. He fit faultlessly against her every mound and hollow. He needed her; ached with it.

Didn’t know what to do. How to sate the need. How not to hurt her.

But she seemed to know. She rolled over him, kissed him long and deep until he sobbed for air, for her, for something he couldn’t describe. Her fingers traced the ugly scars on his thigh and hip, found the snakeskin behind his legs and stroked lightly. She nodded, as if she’d been wondering about something and her question had now been answered.

Still she didn’t run. Again she smiled. She touched him, sliding her hands over his ribs, down his hips, lower. Gods, he wanted... he needed...

“Need you,” he panted. In every way. Every day. Close. Closer.

Too much, it was too much. A wild fantasy, having her there, a dream come true.

Not a dream.

Her pale hair slid forward as she bent to kiss him again, take away his breath. She was rolling something on him — the protection Kalaes had given him that he’d carried in his pants back pocket, and how she’d known that...?

Then she lowered herself, enveloping him, and he’d been right, they fit perfectly, exquisitely together.

“I love you,” she murmured. “You’re in my heart.”

The words shot through him like fire, the pain sweet, overwhelming. His head fell back, the pleasure too great, too deep, the joy too enormous to contain. His body vibrated, made of thin glass, about to shatter. But maybe that was all right, because his heart had been broken and then made whole again. “Gods, you have no idea...” he whispered. “No idea how much I love you.”

More than he could ever explain.

***

Evening had fallen, grey mist and rolling darkness, when Alendra dragged him out of the apartment. He hadn’t wanted to move, content in her arms, on the bed, mapping new territories on her body, but had followed her anyway.

He felt drunk. The world glowed, even in the darkest streets, and it wasn’t the pulsing colors Rex brought out when in danger.

It was as if his gaze skimmed over the shadows and latched on to the brightness of the city — the flickering multicolor store signs, the pools of yellow light under the street lamps, the lit windows of the taller buildings streaming white radiance. 

“Where are we going?” he muttered, letting her pull him by the hand, limping down the street. His body tingled pleasantly, his mind floated.

She said nothing, tugging on the straps of her backpack, and it didn’t matter, he thought, as long as she was near. Her touch, her closeness, combined with what they’d done — with what she’d said and the fact she was staying — meant he grinned for no reason.

A little girl gaped at him, hanging on her mother’s hand.

He laughed quietly, then sobered up and pulled on his hood, just in case. Had to remind himself peace needed time to take root, and he had to be careful.

He’d take care of the children. He’d keep his promise. Though one orphanage wasn’t going to change the face of the world. They needed more.

The children needed more. He hoped Afia and Jek were okay, that their gang hadn’t suffered during the battle. That they were safe. Hera told him that when Dakru City fell, the street kids attacked the headquarters of the regime in every city, Teos included.

Had something happened to them? Was that why they hadn’t arrived yet? Were his friends hiding some awful truth from him?

“Elei?” Alendra had stopped. “Wait here a minute? I need to buy something for the orphanage.”

He nodded, resisted briefly when she tugged away her hand, let go when she gave him a brilliant smile.

Lost some time staring at the way her narrow waist flared into slim hips, at the beautiful curve of her backside, then the door closed behind her. Bells jingled.

He glanced up at the flashing store sign and pulled his hood lower, suddenly chilled. He frowned. Liquor store? What in the hells was she going to buy there for the orphanage? If it was for Kalaes...

He scowled darkly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Kalaes seemed happier now that Zoe had forgiven him, though. Maybe the liquor wasn’t for him but for official visitors, potential investors visiting the orphanage.

Elei relaxed. He went to lean against the wall, keeping an eye on the passersby, his Rasmus a cold weight at his hip.

Alendra came out, her backpack bulging. “All done. Come on.”

“Where now?” But he couldn’t help smiling as she led him through brightly lit streets and between honking aircars. Everything seemed new, as if freshly painted and buffed to a shine, from the old buildings to the stars twinkling in the dark sky.

 “There’s this place,” Alendra said, grabbing his arm when he started to cross the street, forcing him to hurry before the lumbering streetcar rolling toward them run him over. “I discovered it one day when I was running errands for Kal. You’ll see.”

All he could see was her face, her soft mouth, her creamy throat. Blinded. It was a miracle he hadn’t crashed into the asphalt because all he could see was her.

“This way,” she said and dragged him between two buildings, through a narrow alley. A cat hissed, a dog barked. Through the stench of sour piss and rotting garbage, he smelled the salty tang of the sea.

It was a balcony over the cliffs, a concrete terrace. A dingy food stall stood on one side, dark; abandoned. Seagulls hovered on wind currents — white ghosts — as Alendra tugged him to the edge, a low wall separating them from the void and the waves crashing below.